


Still

by alistairweekend



Series: Izelle Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alistairweekend/pseuds/alistairweekend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen accompanies Izelle on the search for Samson, she is struck down by a red templar, and Cullen is left to battle his guilt for not protecting her. Depiction of violence is not incredibly detailed, but I figured I'd warn for mention of a serious wound and blood just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

Izelle looked peaceful in her sleep. Cullen sat at her bedside, elbows on knees, hands clasped and forehead pressed against his curved fingers as if in prayer. And he had been praying, for the past few hours. But he dared not close his eyes and lose sight of Izelle.

She was terribly, unnaturally still, her skin too pale, her tawny freckles and spring-green tattoos —  _vallaslin_ , she had taught Cullen to say with a patient smile when he had inquired about them — too defined without her usual rosy color. Underneath the sheets covering her, Cullen could imagine the bandages covering her midriff. He resisted the urge to lift the fabric and make sure they weren’t bloodied — the surgeon had stitched the wound, a deep, ugly gash stretching from just below her right breast to her left hip bone, the other day and had claimed there would be no more bleeding, but there had been so much blood on that first day that it was hard to believe it had stopped. The only thing keeping Cullen from falling into complete despair was the faint rise and fall of Izelle’s chest, visible only if one looked for it but still _there_. She  _would_  make it through this, she  _had_  to—

The door slammed open. Cullen did not budge, simply tensed and clenched his teeth.

“ _Why didn’t you help her?!_  You could have helped her!” The accusation was flung across the room from a voice not used to being raised, and it cracked and choked back on the loud words. Cole approached Cullen, arms waving and fingers writhing, pulling and tugging at his face, his clothes, his hair, with an anger he did not know how to handle.

"She was right there in front of you… I  _saw_ … Felt her trust, trust in you, trust in me, I didn’t help, couldn’t help because I was too far, but  _you_ …” The boy’s breathing was audible and labored. Cullen said nothing.

Cole stared at Cullen for a long while, as if maybe the emotion in his gaze would drive Cullen to confess, but nothing happened. As he gazed at Cullen, the man still as Izelle on the bed, the boiling rage simmered down inside of Cole, and his mind began to clear. He found himself beginning to murmur: “ _Heat of battle, thrill of energy, exhilaration of the kill, I am useful, I am fighting for good, and she is beside me. She is the good. Have to prove it to her, have to—_

“ _I turn to look for her, cool green against the churning red, sweet, savory, succulent joy curving my lips at the sight of her. I step towards her,_ " — Cole’s muttering became more fervent — " _she is smiling back. And there is a flash, a shriek of red claws between me and her, and two cries at once, one from deep within, a plea to stop, a_ NO!”

Cole paused, staring at nothing now. Cullen dared a glance upward and saw the tiniest glint of light on the spirit’s cheek. “ _The other a shrill song, flying free into the sky as her body falls._ ”

Cole’s gaze found Cullen again. “You tried,” he whispered. “Why wasn’t I closer?”

Cullen reached a hand out and placed it on Cole’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Cole did not reply, his eyes shifting instead towards Izelle. “You need help more than her, now.” A moment of silence. “She’s thinking of you. It wasn’t your fault either.”

Cullen took a deep breath.

"I’m sorry for yelling."

"It’s all right, Cole. I agreed with you."

***

She woke up the next day.

Cullen had nearly fallen asleep — the only reason he had gotten any rest at all the night before was thanks to Leliana coming around midnight and practically dragging him back to his quarters, and even then he had risen before dawn to resume his vigil over Izelle.

His eyelids were heavy and his head felt stuffed with cotton, but he would not leave. He had to be there for her when she came to. And so when she did, when she took a fuller breath and her eyes fluttered open, Cullen forgot his exhaustion in an instant and kneeled on the floor next to the bed.

"Cullen?" she croaked, eyes widening.

"Izelle." The word was both her name and a release, a wisp of air carrying all the fear and anguish and  _guilt_  of the last two days. Cullen put a hand to her face, brushing back her dark hair and taking a moment to admire the brown flecks in her eyes, floating amongst light green pools. There had been a time when he thought he would never be able to look into those eyes again.

"What… what happened?" She made a move to sit up. Cullen tried to stop her but her pain did so for him. A grunt escaped her mouth and she let her head fall back on the pillow. "Ow." She squeezed her eyes shut.

Cullen couldn’t look away from her face. He wanted to answer her question but couldn’t find the words, instead staring and staring for an eternity, watching the color return to her cheeks, the way her eyebrows drew together and her nose scrunched up and her lips pursed, until she finally opened her eyes and her expression turned to concern. “Cullen, what’s wrong?”

His hand found Izelle’s smaller one and enveloped it, gripping it with a quiet desperation and bringing it to his face, pressing his lips against it and closing his eyes, tears burning behind them.

Izelle was silent after that aside from a sigh, long and calm. “I am all right,  _ma vhenan._  I am all right.”


End file.
